To name a thing

Some say I am brave to love
To gamble heart and sanity
On chance and flame

Mayhap, my sight is flawed
I know myself for broken
And perhaps in breaking further
My pieces will align and I will be whole

perhaps the flame will forge me
And I will rise anew

Is it bravery to love?
Rather, I think, it necessity.

On repeat

I repeat to myself
I want to die
I want to die
I want to die
This litany slithers and drifts
This hope to stop existing
This dream that something
Anything
Will stop my mindless gears from turning
Until the crushing weight of my own words
Set my conscious mind to planning
But it was a lie
I just want the pain to stop
So at least
I’ll stop burying the blade deep in myself
And say
I am loved
Even if it probably isn’t true

Reckless healer

I miss romantic love as much as I miss that blissful period when I loved only myself.
A brief time after forgiveness of things beyond my control leading up to the swooping vultures of this guy’s interesting to play with.
Or in thinking that my heart is genuinely filled and cutting it open like a pomegranate to drip seeds down hungry throats.
The pain a substitute for reciprocity
Until, woken I ask for clarification
And
In so doing
Find myself to have been alone
Or instead with pale spectre as companion
Try to shove a heart dripping juice
Never quite full again
Into a chest grown to small
Instead hold in hands
Hoping to find sharing
Or,
At last
For inflammation to cool
The swelling goes down
And fits back in chest
Or to lament that fact
Can’t make you want
More than this distance
To be admired
And loved from
Space removed
So much easier to go quiet
To fade
When I no longer see you
And the blade no longer sinks home with each smile aimed away

Valentine’s day 18-Sara

Spent and more than a little sore, I wake from my drowse. The car has stopped and through the windows our house sits invitingly.

We are tangled together in a sweaty sleepy pile. Pel has snuggled his face into my hair and is cupping my right breast. His breathe lifts his chest in long slow draughts. Craning my neck and peering behind, I see Tara is entwined with Pel. Holding him as close to her, skin to skin, as much as possible. Outside, Jen waits patiently in the afternoons soft heat.

I shift my weight to grab a moist towlette and feel Pel go rigid. He has long since become something of a manager but in his business it pays to be alert even in sleep. I wish sometimes he had stayed in the safe corporate job he took early in our relationship but, after that night, he just couldn’t keep up the facade.

“It looks like we are home,” Pel murmurs sleepily. He scoots over and softly kisses Tara until her eyes flutter open. For a split second you can see the panic in her eyes, then they close half lidded as she sinks into the kiss.

Pel. He’s been with us multiple times today but still his ardor is not dimmed. Instead, it seems to be stoked to full flame. A small smile grows on my face and I quickly clean up.

I slip back into my dress and am just replacing holster and jacket when I hear them break apart, gasping for air. I roll my eyes a bit but the truth is I’ve been on the receiving end of one of those kisses and they are worth a bit of gasping.

Looking over I see Pel zipping his pants and slipping on his shoes, his socks lost somewhere in the back of the limo. Tara has already wiggled back into her dress. And we’re ready to go. I’m fairly sure that the neighbors know something of what goes on but there is no need to throw it in their faces, as two naked women and a half dressed man would definitely do.

I rap on the window and Jen pulls open the door. Jen is the head of Pel’s security detail and his driver. I have no doubt she saw more than a little of what we were doing. Something that adds a exhibitionist spice to it all. But she is quite happy with her wife Elizabeth and, despite an open offer, has never been less than professional.

She offers a hand, which I’m happy to accept, and she helps me out. These heels make it hard to get out on my own. Meeting her eyes a little wickedly, I know that I’ve flashed her a bit. Her slight upturn smile tells me that. But if this kind of thing upsets her, she never would have lasted as Pel’s driver for long.

Reoccurring hope

I find myself thinking about you.
And, of an instant, the flash as you are in my arms and I’m kissing you
Lips pressing and holding the words left unsaid
Tongue slipping against tongue
like a dam breaking
The torrent
the flood of might have been collapsing down to this moment
where our choice is each other
and a fierce joy for each future minute
we will face unafraid
Secure in the knowledge
that we will face it together.

Valentine’s day 17

The press of our bodies heats the air. Musk and sex fill the back seat. I bury my face into the crook of her neck, pressing the muscle of tongue against the flutter of her beating veins. We push up together and I pull down, as she crests down. Like a wave that moves her onto me over and over. Parted for less than a second, but starved for each other.

I hear a soft sound to my left and see Sara watching us, drinking us in, memorizing us. Like a movie she’ll play back later. I reach down and rub my thumb against hood, grazing clit in time to our thrusts. I feel Tara tighten like a fist around me each time I brush clit. I know she’s right on the verge. I slow down, watching pulse slow then quickly build our momentum again. I feel myself start to lose control. Any second I’ll be past the point of no return.

That won’t do.

I slow again but quicken my thumb and make sure the slower thrusts run over and over the rough gspot. I watch as Tara clenches over me, pulse against pulse as she goes boneless. I almost lost control.

The pains of having two lovers’ needs to take care of. I move Tara to the seat across from me and she sprawls languid in afterglow. I turn to Sara to see her sliding to her knees and bends face first in Tara’s still tender pussy. I watch as my wife runs her tongue in long slow circles. Little minx.

Punishment for not waking her up I suppose. Brat. Well, surprises all around then. But I will admit that watching my love cause our pet, our girl, to writhe and moan just destroys me. I could watch them for hours. Just because I know they enjoy it and enjoy me watching them. And they are mine. If I were any happier it would be illegal.

But, Sara knows that she should have asked permission first so, let the punishment fit the crime. I pour the lube from the warming tray down into Sara’s soft pink pucker. I hear the intake of surprise but she keeps to her slurping task. I work in the lube into her. Then pour more onto my cock. I’d normally have opened her up a bit with a plug first but she’s no stranger to my cock in anywhere I desire. I’m just normally more deliberate and orderly.

But today, I press in against her, pushing until I feel resistance then holding, then pushing deeper until I hear her softly whimpering and pushing back against me. I know that without the preliminary she has to be in pain even if she is also in pleasure. Gods, I love my little pain slut. Always give them what they need.

I pull out leaving only the head and slam back in, eliciting a scroam. Half scream half moan. And quickly pound into her. No thought to what else she may need. This is a punishment. I ram my body against her slapping into her as hard and fast as I can until, overwhelmed by her undulating the inner walls of her anus, effectively sucking my cock with her ass. Minx. I blow into her. I feel myself empty into her ass and I pull out with a soft pop. I look over at her and she is smiling, radiant in pain and pleasure.

“Tara, dear, please clean out Sara’s ass. She’s made a mess,” I order.

Tara has been watching for a minute while I worked over Sara.

Sara angles her muscular ass to Tara and winks at her. Brat.

I catch the wink in the tinted windows. Shaking my head, I say “Sara, clean your stink from my cock. You have made a mess.”

Knowing how much Sara hates humiliation, not a hard limit but she loathes it, she knows she took it too far. She bends her head to my sloppy cock dripping cum, lube and ass juices. She begins to lick me clean. Our eyes holding each other, she licks right up the center vein. I feel myself growing hard. I’m not made of stone.

Sometimes I wonder who’s really in charge.

Tremulous notes

There is a world of white and black. Sides of a coin hung in opposition but between the infinite sliver of what was and what will be. In this deepening gray I dwell, a voice raised in song.

Hold me in the heat of a dawning. The sun dances fresh across my lips tasting of your heart. The thought of your flesh yielding to my fierce touch. My voice rises in song. A song of seeking, of finding its lost way to you.

A ponder

I would give much to have the people I love be in my arms. So I may take care of them as much as they take care of me. Because it is in the day to day that love can be said to live. And in the together is where love can truly flourish.

Be kind, be generous, be patient. Love for who they are not for who you desire them to be. There is nothing in this world as strong as love, there is nothing in this world as fragile.

Flat rock floats the river


Every step is a step closer to the grave. Because what am I but a pointless gesture meandering through the simple silence of shadows cast.
Are goals so loose they may well be guidelines instead of definition be truly enough to get out of bed for?
Or am I just wasting for want of a leader.
No harness can I wear that is not fashioned by my hand.
I am horrible to lead as I question each choice and deed.
Take flight and burn in turn of phrase.
Always looking for the person who sees me through the smoke.
Obscured by my honest answers to the meat of the question.
Semantics but I like is not the same as love is not the same as desire is not the same as need.
We break and say what was I to say?
Don’t peddle love when other is meant.
I’ll settle counterweight against your love, a fulcrum to move the world.
Should it prove to be the brittle half truth of like, I’ll break in the turning.
See me, I’ll not settle.
I’m not settling when I choose your love.
But I’ll not take less than all that you are either.
What is worth if not worth all?
Selling pieces without regard or regardless.

I see.
But I’m as broken as any, perhaps more so, knowing yourself is no remedy.
Ignite, burn and be the pyre.
As I lay here fading, bereft of you.
Waiting on the turn of the wheel or a spoken word.